


Books

by theomnisquid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Unbeta'd, organizational kink, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theomnisquid/pseuds/theomnisquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One particular book, Cas studies for a long time. His hand cradling it and his lips moving with the words scrawled on the pages. Dean can feel tears stinging at his eyelids. It is -no- was Bobby’s own journal. He takes the journal from Cas and sets it in the pile of other hunter’s journals. Eyes purposely avoiding the other’s. Cas doesn’t say a word, just reaches for another book to organize. History, History, religion, History, journals, Cas’ movements are fluid and methodical and damn, if Dean isn’t fifty shades of turned on right now. He grabs his beer off the table and finishes it in one long pull of the bottle and excuses himself from the room with the excuse of needing to get another drink. Right now, feels like the best moment to get a bit drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books

**Author's Note:**

> Asked for some prompts on tumblr. One was given to me that asked for Dean being turned on by Cas organizing things. This ensued.

They are back at Bobby’s for the first time since...since the man had died. It makes Dean feel both weirdly uncomfortable and peaceful at the same time. He keeps expecting Bobby to come into the living room from the kitchen, beer in hand and muttering something about everyone being idjits. Of course, Bobby never does. Dean doesn’t try to dwell on the fact that Bobby, will in fact never again just stroll into a room and chide them all on the idjit-ness of their life choices. Not that Bobby ever did stroll when he was alive. Bobby had walked with the ambling gait of a bear. Dean frowns and tries to instead focus of the tap tap tap of Sam’s fingers over the keyboard as he nurses a beer that had been left over from before Bobby died and before his stay in purgatory.

He looks over to Sam, watching his brother hunch over the laptop, eyes furrowed in concentration as he searches through article after article, getting as much information on their latest case as possible. Something about people suddenly bleeding from wounds that appeared out of nowhere. Each wound corresponding with a wound afflicted unto Christ at his crucifixion. Stigmata or something is what he had been told it was called. Just behind Sammy and slightly to his left is Cas, his ever present trench coat rustling slightly as the Angel reaches up and pulls book after book from the shelf and sets them on the table by Sam. Dean raises an eyebrow at the growing pile of books and pushes himself up off the couch.

“He was indeed a man of genius.” Cas’ voice is low, almost reverent. “But his organizational skills leave one wanting.” Anger wells up within Dean’s chest and he resists the urge to grab the Angel by the collar of his coat and shake him.To shout at him to not speak about Bobby in that way. Who cared if Bobby’s shelves looked like some kind of book monster had thrown up on them. Bobby had been a fucking badass, he obviously hadn’t needed to take the time to organize things. And what did it matter, he had always gotten the job done. But then he sees the way Cas strokes the book in his hand, his long finger sliding almost lovingly over the print on the cover. Angelica Bellatorum. In english, the title reads as Angelic Warriors and Dean can take a stab at what the book is about. He watches as Cas gently sets the book down on the pile and grabs another book, repeating the process with this book. Dean feels his heart beat quicken and he takes a long swallow of his beer. Cas looks at him and the angel’s lips twitch into a quick smirk.

“Would you like to help me, Dean?” Dean shrugs and sets his beer down, reaching to pull a book off the shelf. He isn’t like Cas, he doesn’t caress the book like a long lost lover. He just grabs and drops them on the pile. “Words are God’s greatest gift to mankind. But also his worst gift. Words can sing praises to him; yet they can also start wars. Words can heal and words can set off into motion the events that will eventually lead to humanity’s demise.” Cas voice is so low, that at first Dean isn’t sure if what the Angel is saying is being directed towards him. “Words are a beautiful and terrible thing.” Dean stares at Cas, but the angel seems to be lost in his own world again.

With the bookshelf now free of books, Cas turns to the table and sets about making smaller piles of the books. Once again, the Angel gently handles the tomes, his hands light over their bindings and words. Books on religion in one pile, Books on history another, personal journals in yet another. Some books, Cas takes more time studying, as if pondering their classification. Those he opens and reads a few pages of, as if reacquainting himself with an old friend. It is those times that Dean finds himself holding his breath, hands clenched at his sides. And he wants to once again take Castiel by the collar of his trench coat. This time for a reason that isn’t to shake him violently.

One particular book, Cas studies for a long time. His hand cradling it and his lips moving with the words scrawled on the pages. Dean can feel tears stinging at his eyelids. It is -no- was Bobby’s own journal. He takes the journal from Cas and sets it in the pile of other hunter’s journals. Eyes purposely avoiding the other’s. Cas doesn’t say a word, just reaches for another book to organize. History, History, religion, History, journals, Cas’ movements are fluid and methodical and damn, if Dean isn’t fifty shades of turned on right now. He grabs his beer off the table and finishes it in one long pull of the bottle and excuses himself from the room with the excuse of needing to get another drink. Right now, feels like the best moment to get a bit drunk.  


Unfortunately one can only linger in a kitchen for so long. Especially if the excuse was just getting a beer and only 11.5 seconds later he is back in the living room. Back staring at Cas as he organizes the books that once belonged to Bobby Singer. Nope; that short trip to the kitchen did nothing to quell his weird lust for the Angel in the trench coat. Damn. At this point, Cas is carefully placing every book back on the shelves. The journals went on the top shelf; alphabetized by the owner of the journal. The shelf under the journals held the books on Histories, organized in chronological order. The books on the earliest of histories to the farthest left and the books on the most recent histories towards the right. Under that shelf is religions, organized similar to that of histories from the oldest know religion to the youngest. 

Dean shifts his pants suddenly uncomfortably tight as Cas clutches an old worn bible to his chest and raises his eyes up towards the heaven. If Dean hadn’t already been in hell, he would scold himself with the cliched saying that there are special places in hell for those like him. Those who lust after angels while they mourn over their loss of ties with their creator. But Dean has been in hell and knows that there are no special places in it. Cas lowers the book from his chest and places it slowly on the shelf, fingers lingering on it. Dean can understand the gesture, the not wanting to let go of things. 

Without thinking, he is back by Castiel’s side. His hand settles on Cas’ shoulder and gives him a light squeeze and maybe lets his hand linger a bit longer than he should. “I miss them.” Dean can hear the strain in Cas’ voice. “I know I shouldn’t. What they did and what they will do, I shouldn’t miss them. Not like this. But I do. I feel so lost without my brothers and sisters.”  
Dean doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know how to answer the heavenly being. He does understand how Cas feels. Or at least understands as much as he can understand. It was touch and go with Sammy there for awhile. The demon blood and Lucifer; it had felt like Sam had betrayed him. And despite all that, Dean had missed him. Then Cas is turning and Dean’s hand is falling off his shoulder. Angelic hands once again slowly, carefully handle the books. Cas has moved on to what Dean dubs the “creature shelf.” Books on demons, werewolves, angels, vampires and many of the other things they have hunted in their lifetime. He licks his lips and brings his second bottle of beer up to his lips. He pointedly ignores the fact that his dick is hardening as he watches the angel continue to meticulously organize the mess of books that once had residence on Bobby’s shelves. He chugs his beer and tries to act like he isn’t watching the angel-his angel- organize things like it is the hottest porno he has ever seen.

It is Sam’s voice that breaks him out of his thoughts that are about to turn very dirty, very fast. Sam is standing up and looking expectantly at Dean. “Huh?” is all Dean can muster and Sam rolls his eyes, tossing the car keys to Dean. “Let’s go, I’ve got an idea about who the next victim will be.” Dean glances back at Castiel. But if the angel had heard them, he made no indication of it, just keeps organizing the bookshelf. And yeah ok, Dean wanted to slam the stupid angel up against it and maybe shove his tongue down the other’s throat. And he most definitely wanted to get himself a mouthful of Angel cock. Also when the fuck did he start lusting after other men? He argued with himself that technically Cas was genderless. He just inhabited a gendered body.  


“We should stop at a bookstore!” He calls after Sam, jogging to catch up with his moose sized brother. Only offering a shrug at the look Sam shoots him. They need some more books. He is pretty sure they don’t have nearly enough on this Stigmata whatever crap. And if it just so happened to make Cas do some organizing again, well then Dean won’t be so bored while Sam does the research.

**Author's Note:**

> So in my headcanon, Dean hasn't read Fifty Shades of Gray. But he has heard enough about to understand that it is something lonely crazy housewives read for porn. So that is why he thinks about being fifty shades of being turned on.


End file.
